


you don't have to drink right now, but you can dip your feet

by Duck_Life



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Compulsion, Endgame, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Parent Death, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, beholding-related mindfuckery, jon spends raucous evening validating the living shit out of his boyfriend in front of jonah magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: The boys confront the man in the watchtower. Jonah forces Jon to listen to Martin's statement.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	you don't have to drink right now, but you can dip your feet

When they reach the top of the Panopticon, Jonah Magnus is waiting for them. He wastes no time in greeting them, jumping immediately at the chance to try and wriggle under Jon’s skin. “You’ve seen better days,” Jonah says, looking him up and down. “But I suppose there are no better days anymore, not in my new world.” 

“Fuck off,” Martin says, glaring at him. He turns to Jon, looking expectant. Jonah also looks over, taking a closer look at Jon’s scarred, determined form. 

"He looks a bit hungry, doesn't he?" Jonah says loftily, his acid-green eyes admiring his Archive. "We should fix that."

"Don't." Jon's voice is strained, weak. It  _ has  _ been a long time. He's on edge, but he can't… he won't…

"You know how it works, pup," Jonah says. "I ring the dinner bell. You start to salivate."

"Leave him alone!" Martin shouts, glaring up at the hateful man. Jonah just laughs, and Jon casts a worried glance at Martin. They thought they were prepared. They thought they were ready for this.

Jonah Magnus seems intent on proving them wrong. "Martin," he says, sounding almost bored. "Would you please tell Jon about your dear, dead mum?" 

Jon yells, "NO," but Martin has already begun to speak. 

And Jon can't stop himself from listening. From drinking it in. 

"She hated me," Martin says, eyes wide. His fingernails are scrabbling at his face, like he can stifle the statement from spilling out of him. "She hated me with her last breath. On that last day, I was there with her. I just wanted to hold her hand, I knew she didn't have long and I didn't want her to feel scared or alone because  _ nobody  _ should die like that…"

Martin's crying but his mouth just keeps moving. Jon watches on miserably, Jonah gleefully. 

"She was so frail, so weak. But she managed to jerk her bony wrist out of my hand. She shouted at me. She said, 'Get away from me, you useless boy,' and the shouting made her start to cough.” 

The easy flow of Martin’s words comes in stark contrast to the horror in his eyes. It’s clear he wants to stop reliving this, wants to stop talking, but he can’t. Jonah Magnus looks delighted, not just at the chance to drink in Martin’s trauma but at the opportunity to force-feed it to Jon as well. 

“The monitors started going off, this cacophony of alarms,” Martin continues, “and then a nurse ran in. Then more. Somebody pushed me to the back of the room, and I stood there and watched Mum die. And I think she was just happy to finally get away from me."

Statement ends. Martin sobs, a choking, breathless noise. Jon stumbles forward, looking like he wants to reach out to Martin but isn’t sure he has the right to.

Jonah looks down upon Jon. "Well? Was it good for you?"

Jon is trembling with rage and fear, but his gaze when he looks up at Jonah is steady. "You can't compel me."

"No," Jonah agrees. "But… Martin can tell if you're lying. So why don't you go ahead and answer?"

Jon shudders, looking down. "... Yes," he says, his voice drenched in hatred, but it's hard to tell whether there's more directed at Jonah or at himself. "Yes. It felt good." The way stealing bread from a child can feel good if you’re hungry enough. The way lashing out at a loved one can feel good when you’re in the right mood. 

Martin’s trying to pull himself together, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. “Jon,” he says, barely a whisper. “J-J-Jon, it’s okay… i-it’s o—” 

Jonah swivels toward Martin, fixing his gaze on him once more. Martin gasps, fresh tears falling fast as he shrinks away. Away from Jonah. Away from Jon. 

“What did you do?” Jon demands. “What are you showing him?”

“How sated you feel right now,” Jonah smiles. “What a beautiful, vicious thing you are.” 

“I j-just… You—”

“Hard to find the words when you aren’t dredging them out of someone else’s fear, isn’t it?” Jonah remarks, looking down at Jon like he’s an insect, or a treasured trinket. “Give it up, dear Archive. Martin knows, now. How much you long to look into his heart and rip out everything he is. How much you resented those stupid ‘boundaries’ he insisted upon. How much you hated him for trying to tame you.” 

“That’s not true,” Jon says. “That’s  _ not _ true!”

“Truth, lies, none of it means anything anymore,” Jonah says. “It’s all just knowledge. I know every truth and every lie that’s ever been told. And so do you. So you tell me, Archive, when you look at that trembling fool beside you— what is it you see? Someone powerful, someone on equal footing with you? Or just another idiotic victim who still thinks things like hope and love have meaning?” 

Jon looks at Martin, who’s still shaking from the weight of Jonah’s words. After everything they’ve gone through, everything they’ve seen… how can they be back here under Jonah Magnus’s thumb? Like nothing’s changed. 

Except that everything has changed. 

“I see Martin,” Jon says, voice firm. “I see the man I love. The person who convinced me that there was a reason to keep going when I was ready to give up.”

“How touching—”

“I’m not finished, Jonah,” Jon says sharply, his tone impossible to argue against. “I see someone who stood up against you when he  _ knew _ exactly what you could do to him. I see someone who managed to win a battle of wits against Peter Lukas and a battle of wills against Annabelle Cane. I see someone who  _ knows _ the worst humanity is capable of and  _ still _ chooses to try and save it.”

Martin is standing tall now, looking back at Jon. And despite everything, he’s smiling. 

“I see you, Martin,” Jon says. 

“Cool,” Martin says, and for a second it’s like it’s just the two of them. “... Are you going to kill Jonah?” 

“Think so,” Jon says softly. “That alright with you?” 

“More than.” 

“Alright.”

“Wait—” Jonah says, but Jon’s already leveled his gaze on him. “You think you can do that, do you?” 

“Not like with the others,” Jon concedes. “It isn’t enough to make you feel the agony you’ve forced upon the world. You’re already well aware of it— you’re reveling in that pain and trauma. No,  _ showing _ you the pain, making you feel it… well, that would only strengthen you. But what if I took it away?” 

“Arch—  _ Jon _ …”

“And, yes, I can do that,” Jon says, staring at Jonah Magnus with a feverish intensity. “Cut you off from all those sights you love so much. Show you a silent, empty world with no fear for you to feed on. Give you the emptiness you’ve been running from for 200 years.” 

“Wait—”

“I’ve waited long enough.” The air grows thick, and static crackles like the sound of bones breaking. “ **Ceaseless Watcher… look away. Leave him now, leave him with nothing but the vague notion of all that glorious information he used to have at his fingertips. Abandon your most devoted servant… let him Know what that feels like** .” 

The first thing to go are, naturally, Jonah’s eyes. They dry like raisins and fall to the floor. His face, frozen in a silent scream, melts away, and his body compresses and retracts gradually into nothingness. 

Eventually, all that’s left of the man who ended the world are two shriveled eyeballs and a pair of loafers. 

When Jon finally speaks, his voice is uneven. “He’s… he’s gone, but we still have to—”

Martin crashes into him, arms tight around Jon, his face pressed against Jon’s cheek. “You killed him,” he says. “You killed him, and we’re okay, and you’re okay, and… and… Great. Okay.” They kiss, exhausted and overwhelmed and relieved and in love. “Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t step on the—”

“Right.”

“Are you…” Jon leans away so he can look at Martin’s ashen face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Well, no, not really,” Martin acknowledges. “But. You know. Better than Jonah.” 

“Yeah,” Jon agrees, allowing himself a small smile. “Good.” He looks closer at Martin, thinks about how any strength he used to destroy Jonah Magnus came from Martin’s own pain. “Martin, I… I’m  _ so  _ sorry—”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Martin says. “It was Jonah. It was all Jonah.”

“Still—”

“I know.” Martin takes his hand and squeezes tight. “It’s alright, Jon. We’re… we’re okay.” Gently, he tugs Jon away from the vacant throne, away from the dust and ash and desiccated eyes that used to be Jonah Magnus. “Let’s go catch up with the others. C’mon.” 

And Jon lets him lead the way. 


End file.
